to my son
February 24, 2016 § 4 Comments
On the days I worry about you, I marvel at the strength of character with which you navigate the complexities of your daily experience. The honest vulnerability of your words and the steadfast faith in self despite conflicting cultural messages of conformity that denounce diversity with lessons in mainstream manipulations.
Special education* is still a work in progress, measuring success too often by an ability to perform dominant expectations – “normal” behaviors. Inclusion is meant to create a space of acceptance, so why do we still discount the differences that inform a more genuine image of the world we live in?
There are books and speakers, all who commit themselves to crafting lessons on modeling neurotypical behavior, but what of the unexpected wisdom of your experiences? What are we to make of those uncomfortable reflections of “normal” that highlight an inequality in empathy and discrepancy in worth?
These are the days that must happen to you. – Walt Whitman
It would be nice if they didn’t. It would seem to me they needn’t. But, alas, they do and we are changed, often for the better, because of them. Messy miscommunications create a dialogue, however imperfect. Just as you are learning about others expectations of you, you are teaching others about your expectations of them; one conversation at a time.
I love that you stand up for your beliefs with a passion equal to the sincerity with which you listen to other’s perspectives. No matter how many times you are asked to concede to a majority expectation, you advocate for your unique experience of an alternative sense of normal.
Sometimes even I get distracted by my expectations without considering yours. After all, you don’t ask me to change, you simply fill in the gaps of my understanding with your truth – patiently and with acceptance for my ignorance.
I’m sorry.
I remember the first time you drafted a letter of apology. A school aide implied by her word choice that you had behaved in a way that was difficult or disrespectful. I asked you to own your behavior with a note of apology. In your elementary penmanship you did as I asked, but then you spoke to your behavior and intentions. The aide acknowledged to me the truth of your perspective and complimented your character.
Yesterday you were asked to write another letter explaining a classroom conflict with a new aide. Thoughtful penmanship and specific quotes spoke to the same honesty in your experiences; a willingness to own your thoughts and feelings, responsibly and without excuse, while holding others to their behavior as well.
I’m thinking of framing the write-up, not because you were right or wrong, but because your integrity and confidence are admirable qualities more valuable than mainstream social niceties. In a handful of sentences you apologized, valuing another’s expectations and emotions, while gently affirming your worth.
You were teaching even as you learn.
Love, Mom
*I want to take a moment to acknowledge and celebrate the individuals who have been remarkable companions in my Special Education journey. We’ve a way to go, still, but I’m a better advocate for my children for your knowledge and kindness. Thank you.
scribblechic 
That is the love of a mother who has ‘seen’ the understanding of that love within her child, that moment when regardless of circumstances, you touch that place within that connects and holds that truth. It teaches us about ourselves, as well as, of another.
Very beautifully written Marie, thank you for sharing that love, it is a love like no other.
Thank you, Mark.
We speak of “mainstreaming” and yet sometimes, when I look at our mainstream, I think–who in their right mind would want to join it?
Right!? Why do we celebrate common? Give me gorgeous individuality that resists being reconfigured into sameness. I think the secret is it’s much harder for us to change, to give up the comfort of a quieter acquiescence for an uncertain chance at magic.